He pushed me through the gate and onto the tree-lined avenue beyond. The street was deserted, heat shimmering above the paving stones.

“Do you have a plan?” he demanded.

I did not answer. All I knew was that I had to fix this. I started running. Celane could have me, but not Finn—she had won, but it did not matter so long as they let him go.

“Dammit, El,” snapped Osan. “Answer me!”

“Get me to the execution grounds.”

He made a sound of frustration, but kept up. His breath emerged ragged, and a sheen of sweat covered his face.

The stables were quiet; a single stable hand watched over the drowsy horses. Two animals stood within the harness of a black cab, heads low in the heat, brown coats dark and shining with perspiration. The stable hand recognised Osan before we had even reached the doors, and rushed to secure the traces to the vehicle.

“I’ll drive,” I said.

Osan leaned against the side of the cab heavily. “No.”

“You’re in no condition—”

“Well, you should have thought of that earlier. Get in and stay out of sight.” He pulled himself onto the driver’s seat and snatched the reins. The horses stamped their hooves anxiously.

I clambered into the back and slammed the door shut. My heart thudded; my breathing came fast and shallow. With a jerk, the cab lurched forward.

One small action, then another. Fix this. If the mansion bordered one of the greenhouses, then we could not be far from Minor West; it should only take a few minutes to reach the execution grounds. I gripped the edge of my seat. Time felt like water slipping through my hands. Through the front-facing window, I could see blood seeping through the fabric of Osan’s shirt. Cold sweat beaded the back of my neck.

Eater, let Finn be safe, I thought fervently. Please, let him be okay.

The cab jolted across the bridge spanning Pearl Boulevard, then swung right at the bend in the road. Someone yelled, angry or alarmed, but Osan ignored them and kept us moving, dangerously fast.

“Come on,” I muttered. “Come on, come on.”

I smelled smoke before I saw it, plumes of dark grey rising above the roofs of the buildings to the north. Osan cursed, but urged the horses down Calamite Road all the same. Ahead were the red-brick walls of the Renewal Wards; beyond lay Steel Street and the execution grounds.

The smoke grew denser, catching in the back of my throat. Osan dragged on the reins, and we slowed.

“I can see robed Sisters up ahead,” he said. “They’ll be looking for you. You do realise that?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I fumbled with the door. Osan stopped the horses and swung down to block my way.

“It does matter,” he said. “You’re going to stay close to me and keep your head down, because it will do Finn no good if you’re caught before we even find him.”